In the World of Dog, experts proclaim the dog picks you. You do not pick the dog. I am beginning to believe this folk wisdom.

The pup who found his way to our door is is a sensitive, extroverted fun-loving guy.

How different from the portrait I imagined entitled: Life with a Dog.

Secret Hope: a quiet, calm creature that loves to sleep at the end of the couch as I lay supine, good book in hand.

Reality: Fun-loving party guy with a confident swagger and goat-leaping abilities.

Our Prancing Prince believes everyone he crosses paths with is a stranger who is not yet a best pal. When he spots a walker from afar he freezes mid-stance. Then his body starts to quiver with anticipation. Party is about to go into full swing. I can hear the little puppy wheels turning:

Hark! Is that a human with a four-legged friend? Why, I believe they have not yet met Rumi the Splendid! Oh boy, oh boy. another friend for life! Yip! Yip! Leap!

I was told this is “over-socialization” – maybe not the best thing for an easily stimulated poodle? Jeepers, what the hell do I know about raising a pup? The advice out there is contradictory at best and confidence crushing at worst.

I say Rumi is the quintessential extrovert. He needs daily interaction with people and pups. Sadly for this guy, his owner is a bit of an introvert. Energy replenishment comes from quiet, not from interacting with Every. Single. Sentient Being.

At close to 55 pounds, I cannot budge my beloved when he sets his sights on someone while out walking. I try crossing the street or commanding attention with treats but he no longer falls for any of it. Now, rump plops firmly down. Canada Post trucks and honking cars be damned. There are ladies to love and gentlemen with whom to bond!

Prior to Rumi, walking around familiar streets involved only the odd nod/smile to a fellow walker. It came as a rude awakening to this introvert that when you dog-walk in a dog-friendly neighborhood, anonymity is a thing of the past.

Here is one small incident after a walk with Rumi this fall:

Dave (seeing the look on my face): how was your walk?

Me: Well, I was just chatting with a neighbor who told me he heard, from BOB, that: “karen’s been bitten by 3 ticks this year.” Did you also tell Bob WHERE I was bitten? Huh?!”

Dave (backing up): whaat? no!…and who the heck is BOB?

Me: I don’t know!

News travels faster in the World of Dog than Tweets ‘n TikTok.

I wondered why this bothered me so much. I was meeting some terrific people I had apparently been neighbors with for years. Who cared that “Bob” knew about my tick issues? But had it also gotten around the neighborhood that Dave dismembered two from my back and one from my lady love thatch discovered by a sleepy scratch at 4am?

Were people secretly pointing and chuckling at my misfortune as my hyper pup and I walked by?

No and No. And if Yes, at least they’re laughing. That’s a good thing these days.

You Get the Dog You Need

I have come to (begrudgingly) appreciate anything that shakes me out of my comfort tree. Raising Rumi is doing just that.

My neighborhood walks are no longer anonymous; anonymity having long been a place of comfort and safety. It is one reason why I love travel and have traditionally moved more than a military Private. Increased familiarity and burgeoning friendships tend to make me panic. A little voice has always whispered: You will disappoint this person. Better not take that chance. Time to move on.

I did not acknowledge this voice until Rumi. My over-reaction to the above tick tale made me plop my rump down to do a little emotional dissection. And there it was: that relationship-sabotaging voice.

And here I was thinking I had my shit together. Yeesh.

My dog has taught me that it is time for a new voice. One that says: Be yourself – whatever that looks like today. It’s all good.

I prefer this easygoing voice. It makes me appreciate my encounters with people. It helps to silence that which no longer serves an outdated protective purpose.

Unexpected Intimacy

I recently met a new neighbor. She came over to pick up an item I was selling.

Sometimes our woes need to be aired to a complete stranger. She spoke of a difficult and humiliating time her family was experiencing. I attempted to listen while pumping Rumi full of treats to please be good boy and SIT.

Mistaking stillness for calmness, I let go of the leash and turned my full attention to her.

As her pain continued to pour forth, I spotted two furry paws silently work their way up to firmly grab her waist from behind. I watched in horrific slow-motion as his hormone-fueled haunches went into immediate action. He almost knocked her off her feet.

“Ohh Shiit!” I screamed, yanking on the leash to release his tethered death grip. His timing could not have been worse.

Humiliated by his behavior and my own inability to foresee/control it, I sighed and made painful eye contact with our guest.

“The last. thing. you needed tonight was to be humped by a 55 pound horny poodle. I am. so. sorry.”

Speechless, she stared at me. Then started to laugh. An authentic belly laugh.

“A horny poodle is the least of my worries. Trust me.”

After hearing her story, I believed her. I said a little prayer that maybe one of the cruel voices in her head would give her a break.

Back to The Welcome Mat

As 2021 draws to an end, I am struggling to welcome what is landing at our collective doors. Traditional plans are out. Christmas Day booster shots are in. I know I do not have a monopoly on the curmudgeonly bah-humbugs. There are plenty of people struggling with things far worse than cancelled plans and helpful boosters.

Then I read Arlene’s Sun Salutation:

We narrow our outlook to what’s important in the moment.  

Arlene somerton smith

Good advice in these dark days, Arlene.

We cannot plan for what lands at our door. But we can use communal spirit to share the collective burden. Sit down for a moment and lean back-to-back. Simple, sweet relief.

Reactivity (which I am guilty of these days) is energy squandered. Responsiveness (found after deep breaths and a glass of wine) is energy usefully employed.

Back to My Dog

Like all dogs, Rumi is the epitome of non-judgement. He greets everyone the same way: with an open and loving heart (and until puberty ends, the odd exuberant hump). And if they don’t jive with his vibe? No problem. He simply swaggers on.

Rumi, my soulful guy, you have managed to boot me from my cozy, safe perch. Maybe I should call you the good karma dog.

From the small crew at the Good Karma Cabin, we wish you a (quietly) merry-making Christmas and a new year laden with blessings. Your fellowship makes my heart grow three sizes bigger.

More tales from the cabin will be following in 2022, albeit with possible changes and pivots. Such is life.

It’s all good. Yip yip.